Four years ago, an incident broke out at the celestial plane. There had been a border that draws a distinct line between reality and fiction. That border had disappeared for no apparent reason, causing imbalance on both realms. The Higher Beings decided to merge both realms into one single realm where fiction and reality are one, and that they appointed several unnamed beings as the protector.
These beings are to live and keep balance and order in the now merged realm. If they die, another protector will be chosen in their place. If they have a family, one of them will be chosen, be it his/her wife/husband, child, adopted child, etc.
For the mankind, the merging of the realms started as a group of university students found themselves trapped in a mysterious realm they named 'Khayal'. There, magic and technology made its blend after the students' unexpected arrival. A magical border was keeping distance between Khayal and their realm, or so the tales said, and if they were to return, they would have to break the magical border.
Long story short, they did. They broke the magical border, leaving them free to leave Khayal, and opening a new horizon for Khayal's native people to explore the new world that lied ahead. Unbeknownst to them that The Higher Beings were choosing the merged realms' first band of protectors, and that by destroying the border, the humans made access not to their previous realm, but to the new merged realm The Higher Beings had created.
Hi. I'm Al.
If you're reading this, first of all, I should say thank you. The following entries should have been taken from my personal diary. If you found and read this, I advise you to learn from anything happened and never make the same mistake anyone made here in your viewpoint.
I should be writing new diary entries by the time you read this. Perhaps, a continuation of regrets, or an ending of regrets.
I am an university student, studying Sociology Education in a named local community university. It wasn't the best of universities, but at least, there were no other rival education universities at the province that provided Sociology Education undergraduate program.
I studied at a class of forty-five people. Despite the crowd, I feel like I'm separated from the folks. Not that I hate them or they hate me, but I feel like I'm not among them. What they like aren't what I like, their hobbies aren't mine, many things we can't relate to each other. I feel like an outsider in my own university.
This was made worse by a folk in class, that guy, Prakarsa. After all he'd done in the past four years, he named me a traitor ever since, made it so like I'm the bad guy behind everything and had everyone hate me. I hate that guy, desperately and personally. Tough luck I couldn't resort to murder, else I'd have slit his throat open and rip his spine away.
In the end, I feel lonely.
I feel like I'm the outsider of this campus. I feel like everyone hates me. That's true.
Why couldn't I relate to anything my friends feel? Why couldn't I relate to anything they enjoy? Why couldn't I adapt to them? Why couldn't I be a part of them? Why am I different from the others?
On my way home, I met a young man by the street, looking endlessly to the city horizon from the place he was standing.
He was wearing a white striped T-shirt below a jeans shirt and a jacket on top of all. He looked rather pale white. His hair was brown, but thanks to the situation my eyes caught it as black at first.
I did not go to campus by bike today, so I used public transportation. Perhaps he was waiting for one, too. I stood beside him, trying to steal a glance of what eye color he had.
Blue. It was blue.
I simply thought he was a foreigner, be it Australian, American, or European, or basically a Caucasian. Honestly I'm an Indonesian.
My room. Ah, yes. My fortress of solitude. The save haven from all the discrimination and isolation that engulfs the outside world. I have never felt safer than when I'm at home. My room welcomes me anytime, provides me with warmth, and I feel happy whenever I'm in. The company of everyone in the room is warm: the sofa, television, a gaming console, a desktop computer, a study desk, the open window and the small balcony outside, ah, basically everything.
Then I went to my room, did the chores like bathing et cetera, until I eventually stumbled in front of the window. My eyes gazed past the scenery of a beautiful small town that lied ahead me. Whenever I saw this, peace knocked and filled my heart, cooling me down after the brutal attacks of social discrimination.
Thoughts raced my head. Why did they do that? What have I done? What is wrong with me? Is there anything wrong in me? Looks? Appearance? Clothing? Fashion? Speaking style? Well look, I'm not as handsome as Prakarsa is, not as fashionable as the other boys are, or not as religious as Khobbab is. You want to know my speaking style? Well you're reading my diary, you should've guessed it at your own. Wonder why you haven't hated me by now, though.
All those thoughts were replaced when I held onto the red pendant I decided to bring back home. What is this pendant? Hey, this looks beautiful, how did someone actually craft this? Where did they get the jewel? How much is this in the market? What value does this pendant have? Intrinsic values? Meanings? A beautiful pendant of this caliber won't be made without any reasons, and that is for sure.
When I turned around...
he surprised me.
The very same man I stood along by the street this afternoon. I'm certain since his eye color and hair, as well as his looks, were the same. This time he was wearing a red T-Shirt though, and also that weird pair of googles and headphones...
I thought he was in something busy and somehow he could trace his pendant back here, and perhaps I was too drowned in my thoughts that I didn't hear him knocking so he just came in. My bad.
Holding back surprise and deeply gulping in nervousness, I asked him, "Um... Excuse me, sir, this might be yours. I apologize for taking it without permission, but as I stood up this afternoon, you were--"
"Oh, don't worry!"
His energetic answer shocked me.
"You've saved me, in fact." He replied.
He put on that bright, cheery smile to me. "I'm Norton. I actually passed away three days ago..."
"Passed away?" Was he talking about his own death that casually? Or might he be misunderstanding pass out and pass away like I did in my English course last year?
"Yes, I literally died."
And all he said in a rather casual manner. Also did he just say that he was dead? Then by all means, how could he be standing here in front of me? I thought ghosts were supposed to be semi-transparent, were they not?
"But a magician mistakenly trapped my soul in the pendant, so I didn't pass to the other world," he continued.
Alright, he now made sense. After all, what he said might be true in this merged hell-of-a-universe. Still, I regret the victory of mankind to break the inter-realm barrier back then in Khayal... If only I didn't encourage those guys...
"Excuse me, you're still there?"
"Oh, y-yes!" I jolted. "Sorry, race of thoughts. Name's Al. Nice to meet you."
"The honor is all mine." Now he changed his tone to sound rather formal-ish or castle-ish.
"Um... Well, Norton, what can I do to help? I...um..."
"Al, you look nervous, you OK?" He walked past me and looked to the horizon. He rested both of his hands to the balcony and felt calm wind breezing through his brown short hair and clothing. "Wow. Nice wind. It feels like it's been a long time since the last time I feel this good."
I watched him from his back.